First Christmas
by Shiny Jewel
Summary: For the Secret Santa Challenge - A special gift brings the idea of a "First Christmas" full circle.


_This is a response to the **Secret Santa** challenge. My gift is for Rachel Wilder and her prompt: "First Christmas." Extra special thanks to KarenES for her wonderful beta work and invaluable suggestions! Also, as a sidenote, the future portion of this fic can be viewed as an epilogue of sorts to my last story "Five Times Deacon Became A Dad." __Hope you enjoy! :) _  


**First Christmas**

As a child, Rayna never had the magical Christmas experience that was portrayed in the movies or written about in storybooks.

She hadn't baked cookies to put out for Santa as holiday music hummed in the background or trimmed the tree with sentimental ornaments made out of glitter-drenched macaroni. There were no special traditions like building a gingerbread house or cuddling up by the fireplace with hot cocoa and watching "It's a Wonderful Life."

Sure, on paper it had all been there: The tree, the gifts, an elaborate feast, but it was hardly what childhood fantasies were made of.

Every year, a gigantic evergreen was brought in and painstakingly decorated by a professional designer. It was adorned with fancy glass and crystal ornaments that screamed _don't touch_ and surrounded by a protective rope to keep Rayna and Tandy from getting too close and breaking anything. The tree stood on display in the main entryway of the house, because it looked more impressive there to guests than in the living room where they could have actually sat under it and excitedly ripped open their presents like normal kids.

Their gifts were lavish but impersonal: Porcelain dolls, fancy dresses with bows and ruffles that reflected the way Lamar Wyatt thought little girls should be attired, and expensive jewelry for them to wear at society events where they'd be trotted around like little status symbols. It somehow never seemed to matter that Tandy just wanted a pair of roller skates or Rayna a record player.

While their mama was normally a loving and free-spirited balance to the rigid, old-fashioned parenting style of their daddy, she always seemed distant and depressed around the holidays. That was best-case scenario. At worst, the fancy Christmas lunch their father always hosted for extended family and various business associates would be wrought with silent tension that later exploded into heated arguments behind closed doors - but loud enough for two frightened little girls lurking in the hallway to hear.

After their mother passed away, Rayna and her sister were usually sent off to celebrate with stuffy relatives from the Wyatt side of the family, their father always on some kind of business trip halfway across the globe as an excuse to avoid Christmas altogether.

Until she met Deacon, Rayna hadn't really confided in anyone about how emotionally damaging growing up in that house had been. Trying to break into the music business left no time for sob stories. She took pride in her tough exterior and learned very quickly that maintaining a thick skin was necessary in order to have a chance in hell of making it. However, as much as she resented her father, it was a terrifying thing to defy him and put all her eggs in one basket. The pressure to be successful was enormous, especially since she hadn't exactly been thinking about a Plan B when she had impulsively stormed out of the Belle Meade mansion she grew up in, with her suitcases in hand.

She was young and on her own, chasing a dream that she knew was in no way guaranteed despite the talent so many told her she had.

On the outside she may have been brave, fearless and persistent, but on the inside she was scared shitless.

On stage, she had to maintain her confidence and charming smile, no matter how many times she was booed or how many drunk losers screamed at her to lift her shift. But there was one place she could let down her guard, and that was with Deacon.

Looking back, if it hadn't been for him, she honestly wasn't sure she would have made it through that tumultuous period in her life. There had been a pull between them from that very first day their eyes met at the Bluebird. Not just a physical attraction, but a shared sense of trust that was born out of their almost immediate musical connection. A marriage of chords, lyrics and harmonies that quickly grew into something more intimate. Something that was more than the bond of friendship or the fleeting intensity of lust.

She'd often find herself telling him things that she had never admitted to anybody, sometimes not even herself. In return, he shared some of those ugly parts of his history with her, too.

Late one unseasonably warm night in the beginning of December and almost a year since Rayna and Deacon had first met, they sat in the bed of Deacon's pickup in a deserted parking lot after a gig, talking about what the holidays had been like for them as kids.

"Christmas 1984, right here," Deacon declared numbly, shrugging off his coat and pulling up the sleeve of his faded blue t-shirt.

He traced his finger over a small white scar.

"That bastard went after my mama because she wasn't servin' him his dinner quick enough. Luckily he was dead drunk and went on down like a sack of potatoes when I got in between em'. But not before he took off his belt an' got me right here with the metal bit." Deacon jabbed his finger into his arm to demonstrate. "Dug it right into my skin, as hard as he could." He shook his head as if he were trying to knock the memory out of it.

Rayna gasped softly in disbelief. She suddenly felt incredibly silly for whining about her Christmases in a sad, lonely mansion. Her father might have been a cold, unfeeling man, but she'd never had to worry about anything as horrific as physical abuse.

"I'm so sorry, Deacon," Rayna said, her voice barely above a whisper. She met his deeply soulful eyes with her own. "I can't imagine what that must have been like. Guess I shouldn't be complainin' about my family after all."

Deacon reached over and and took her hand in his. "You don't need to be sorry for nothin', darlin. Just because your story ain't exactly like mine, don't make it any less less painful." Then he gave her that warm smile that so far had never failed to melt her heart. She suspected it never would.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Deacon cleared his throat and began to speak. "Vince is goin' back to Mississippi for the holiday to visit his folks," he told her. "We'll have the whole place to ourselves. What do you say you and I have a little celebration of our own this year?" Deacon raised his eyebrows hopefully at Rayna. "That is, if you don't have any other obligations."

Rayna nodded happily in agreement and then leaned over to press her lips softly against his. He gently reached for the back of her head, grasping her curls with his fingers and deepened the kiss. Their legs dangled off the edge of the truck and they sat, their bodies angled toward each other, making out for a long while, until Rayna pulled back slightly and rested her forehead against Deacon's. "I'd love that," she whispered, smiling at him. "Our first Christmas together."

{**}

A few weeks later, they were in Deacon's truck heading back from a rehearsal when he made a left on McFerrin Avenue instead of the usual right to get back to his apartment.

Rayna looked out the window, confused, as they cruised down the street in the wrong direction. "Uh Deacon...," she said, "did you forget how to get home?"

"Nope," he replied, staring straight ahead, a mischievous smirk on his face.

Rayna raised an eyebrow and waited for him to explain but was only met with silence. She sighed in exasperation.

"Deacon Claybourne, where in God's name are you takin' me? We can't be runnin' around partyin' tonight. We've got a gig tomorrow."

Deacon turned the car into the parking lot of a small hardware store. "Simmer down, Ray," he said calmly. "You'll see what we're doin' in a second."

As soon as they pulled in, Rayna immediately noticed the parking lot was lined with Christmas trees in all shapes and sizes. A large white tent set up by the entrance to the store was strung with glowing white twinkle lights and housed all kinds of holiday decor for sale, like bright red poinsettias in pots wrapped in shiny gold foil and vibrant green wreaths tied with thick velvet bows and dangling pine cones.

Rayna took in their surroundings with wide-eyed wonder but was still puzzled as to why Deacon had brought her there. She stared at him questioningly as he put the truck in park and began to unbuckle his seat belt.

"I don't understand," she said slowly, "what are we doin' here?"

He flashed her a boyish grin. "Gettin' us a tree, darlin'. This year, you and me, we're gonna do Christmas right."

{**}

A half hour later, Rayna held open the rickety front door to Deacon's apartment and giggled as he heaved the enormous tree over the threshold.

"Where in the heck are we gonna put this thing, Deacon?"

"In the living room, baby," Deacon said breathlessly, clumsily dragging it across the floor.

"You mean Vince's bedroom?" she asked, stifling a laugh.

"Vince ain't home, so it's the living room."

Deacon and Vince's tiny apartment hardly qualified as a one bedroom. Vince slept on a pull-out couch in the middle of the living area - while Deacon, who paid slightly more in rent - had the honor of occupying a room that was likely less square footage than the walk-in closet in the bedroom of the Belle Meade mansion Rayna had grown up in. The bathroom was always filthy no matter how much Rayna cleaned up in there and half the time the living room floor was covered with discarded pizza boxes and dirty laundry. Still, this place felt more like home to Rayna than any place ever had. While she technically lived across town in a tiny apartment with several female roommates, she had all but moved in to Deacon and Vince's apartment, given the amount of time she spent there.

Deacon continued trying to wedge the too-tall, too-thick tree into an empty corner by the window as Rayna watched him from the couch, an amused look on her face. After a bit of maneuvering he stood back to admire his work. "Not too bad, huh?"

Rayna nodded her head, impressed that he had somehow managed to cram the thing into the small space without having to cut it in half. "Not bad at all," she agreed. "But now that we got this monstrosity in here, what are we gonna decorate it with?"

"I figured you'd ask that," Deacon replied, the self-satisfied grin on his face telling Rayna that he had something up his sleeve. "Don't move," he instructed her. "I'll be right back."

Deacon disappeared into the bedroom, returning a moment later with several large white shopping bags. He joined Rayna on the couch and slowly dug into each one, pulling the items out and showing them to her. There were spools of Christmas lights, a big glittery roll of silver tinsel and plastic boxes of ornaments in festive colors that he had bought at the local discount store, some with ornate designs on them and others doused in sparkles.

He opened the last bag and let her peek inside. There were what looked like craft supplies: construction paper, red and pink fabric bows, a big bottle of glue, construction paper, a box of macaroni and a canister full of gold glitter.

Deacon laughed at Rayna's puzzled face.

"This stuff...it's for homemade ornaments," he clarified. "My mom used to do em' with me and my sister when we were little. They ain't too hard to put together. I know you said you never got to make anything like this as a kid at home with your family," Deacon said, "but I figure it's never too late, right?"

{**}

Rayna and Deacon spent Christmas Eve at Deacon's apartment eating Chinese takeout for dinner and then at Rayna's insistence, Deacon pulled out his guitar for a holiday music singalong that lasted late into the night. They fell asleep watching a Christmas movie marathon on TV, cuddled up close on the couch together.

As the morning sun shone through the thin fabric of the curtains on the windows, Deacon nuzzled his nose into the back of Rayna's neck and she stirred slightly.

"Merry Christmas, darlin'." he said quietly into her ear.

Rayna turned in his arms and looked up at him groggily, smiling. "Merry Christmas babe," she said, kissing his nose and snuggling closer to him.

She lay there peacefully, gazing at the tree, glowing in the corner of the room.

It wasn't the most meticulously decorated thing in the world - the ornaments were concentrated to one side, the tinsel was lopsided and they had completely overloaded the thing with lights, but it represented one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her.

Rayna's eyes traveled to the glittery construction paper circle with wagon wheel macaroni scattered all over it. It hung from a branch in the middle of the tree by a big red fabric bow, on which Rayna had taken a magic marker and written the date along with the words: _Rayna and Deacon - First Christmas._

{**}

**Christmas Eve 2015**

Rayna went down the large spiral staircase, baby monitor in hand, and into the living room. It was dim, lit only by the glow of the lights from the tree, the television and the three thick candles burning on the mantle of the fireplace.

Slivers of colorful Christmas paper and stray bows and ribbons littered the area rug where she and Deacon had been wrapping gifts earlier. Daphne's ballet slippers were flung over the armrest of the couch and sheet music from an earlier songwriting session was scattered across the coffee table. A pair of Maddie's boots sat in a precarious spot on the floor despite Rayna's constant begging not to leave them there, out of fear someone would trip and break their neck. That is - if they hadn't already stumbled over the various pieces of baby gear strewn across the room. It had been so many years that Rayna had almost forgotten the excessive amount of space such a tiny little person could take up in a home.

She smiled and let out a quiet sigh of contentment as she assessed the clutter. It was a big mess, that was for sure, but the most beautiful mess she had ever seen.

Their home might be chaotic at times, but it was warm and full of love. After all they had been through, sometimes Rayna still had to pinch herself to believe that this was really her life. For so long, she had traded in the quiet stability of family life for the passion and fireworks that came from being with Deacon. Finally being able to have the best of both worlds brought her more happiness than she had ever thought possible.

She stood quietly for a moment watching Deacon, who was sprawled out on the loveseat with a guitar in his lap. She smiled, noticing the burp cloth still flung over his left shoulder from giving their daughter her bedtime feeding. The sound of random chords filled the air as he mindlessly fingered the strings, staring - almost comatose - at the TV.

When she got close enough to see what Deacon was watching, Rayna burst out laughing.

"'Real Housewives of Beverly Hills', Deacon?" she said incredulously. "Really? Man, you'll do anything to avoid wrapping presents."

Deacon snapped out of his trance, turning his eyes from the television to look at her. "Guilty as charged," he admitted with a chuckle. He placed his guitar on the floor and pulled the cloth off his shoulder, placing it next to the nearly empty baby bottle on an end table next to the couch.

"I say we avoid gift wrapping together for a little while. What do you say?" He patted the cushion next to him.

Rayna smiled at him, tempted, but then looked anxiously at the mess on the floor. "You're a bad influence, you know that?"

"It depends on how you define bad." He arched his eyebrows suggestively.

Rayna laughed and smacked his arm. "Behave yourself - we've still got things to do." She jerked her head toward the mountain of unwrapped gifts on the rug and groaned. "Remind me next year not to wait till the last minute."

"Well, we have been a bit busy, Ray. Just c'mon. Sit here with me a minute. Those gifts ain't goin' anywhere. We'll get em' done."

Rayna relented and climbed on to the couch. She stretched her legs out, settling her head in Deacon's lap, and admired the tree they had decorated as a family a few weeks earlier. Suddenly she was overcome with déjà vu; the memory of that first Christmas morning she and Deacon had spent together came flooding back to her.

"Remember that first Christmas we spent in your apartment in East Nashville? God - that tree." She giggled, recalling the haphazard way they had decorated it.

Deacon laughed softly. "How could I forget? I think that thing could have illuminated Times Square with the amount of lights we strung on there." He reached down to stroke Rayna's hair, slowly raking his fingers through the thick red strands.

"We've come a long way, haven't we?" She paused. "You know...in our tree decorating. And other things."

"We sure have darlin."

{**}

The first Christmas morning with the newest member of their family was a success. There were pancakes and hot chocolate and shrieking with excitement as presents were ripped open. Sure, their four-month old daughter had no real idea of what was going on, but it was special nonetheless.

After the girls had opened all their gifts, Maddie knelt down under the tree to retrieve a bright red package.

"We have something for the baby," Daphne announced proudly as Maddie knelt down and handed it to Rayna, who was sitting next to Deacon on the floor with their youngest daughter in her lap.

"We made it ourselves," Maddie added.

"You did?" Rayna smiled widely at her daughters. "Well, I'm sure she's going to love it."

Rayna carefully handed the baby over to Deacon to free up her hands, and then tore the wrapping paper off the box.

When she lifted the lid and saw what was inside, her eyes immediately welled up with tears. She delicately pulled out the homemade ornament and held it up, specks of glitter raining off of it. It was exactly like the one she had made that first Christmas with Deacon; she had continued the tradition with the girls for years when they were young.

Daphne and Maddie had glued some tiny photos of themselves with their little sister in between the bits of macaroni and topped it with a huge silver bow, where they had written the date along with the words: _Emma's First Christmas._


End file.
